


even into hell

by Tasia (ruikosakuragi)



Series: FMA Tumblr Events 2018 [4]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Compliant, Depression, F/M, FMA Angst Week 2018, Ishbal | Ishval, Ishval Civil War, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-War, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-17 08:18:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15457149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruikosakuragi/pseuds/Tasia
Summary: Riza Hawkeye returned from Ishval with guilt weighing on her shoulders, and there's only one man who could lift it off her.





	even into hell

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Trigger warning: graphic description of suicide attempt. If you are not comfortable, click the back button right now.
> 
> A/N: Written for FMA Angst Week on Tumblr for Day 1 Prompt: Penance. I'm posting a day-ish early because I will be busy this weekend. Shout outs to my beta readers Soda, Liz and SillyBunny.

**_Central News_ **

**_Ishval Civil War Finally Over!_ **

_The instability created in Eastern Amestris has finally ended after seven years of constant battle. Religious and cultural tensions have been the catalyst for the violence and bloodshed which began in September 1901, and it exploded into an all out civil war with massive casualties on both sides when Fuhrer King Bradley issued Presidential Decree Number 3066, which stated that all people of Ishvalan descent will be imprisoned for treason while State Alchemists suited for combat will be dispatched to the front lines to exterminate the people of Ishval. Today, September 2nd, 1908, is a day to commemorate in our history as our Amestrisian heroes return home to their families to rejoice in victory._

 

* * *

 

**One week later…**

She gazed at her reflection, yet she didn’t see what she had wanted to see. She saw a woman who had aged beyond her years; long, deep creases around her eyes, a pale complexion dull and sallow, drooping skin like melted candle wax, and her lips were patchy, cracked, and dry as the desert soil.

She trailed her fingers to her left shoulder, pressing gently on her flesh as it traversed the stretch of her shoulder blade, searching for seared skin. The skin was uneven; peaks and valleys of quarter-sized welts spread over the area, and she pinpointed at what felt like the thickest crust and grimaced when it became sensitive with the slightest touch.

She stared blankly into the tub behind her, filled with water to the brim, and watched the calmness of it, the unruffled surface of what would aid her in the struggle for freedom. She dragged her feet to it, steps screeching and heavy as the sole of her feet made contact with ceramic tiles, baited like a zombie. She hoisted herself over the porcelain tub, water rippling when her toe touched the surface.

The rest of her body shivered as she entered the tub, cold water sending a numbing sensation starting from her toes and into her feet, crawling into her thighs, and shooting up her groin. She dipped herself in the water, lower half of her body submerged, knees folded together and pressed into her stomach as she crouched in a fetal position. She rocked every so often, adjusting to the temperature of the water until it felt lukewarm on her skin.

She leaned her back against the slope of the tub, arms hanging loosely over the edge, and her mouth formed an ‘o’ as she expelled air slowly and quietly in an agonizing delay. She sat in silence as minutes turned into an hour, stuck in perpetual rumination of the murders, violence, and bloodshed that brought about the end of _their_ lives. Her memory replayed of a boy, trapped against a large, towering wall. The Crimson Alchemist was inches away, grinning with his tongue sticking out of his mouth as he rubbed his palms together. The little boy with white hair and piercing red eyes squirmed into a ball as he stared into the eyes of his murderer with fear. He squealed loudly, body trembling violently, and his eyes spilled into a waterfall like stream as he wailed for his mother. Riza observed through the lens of her scope, deciding to end his short life with as little pain as possible. _Bang!_ She took the shot, and she watched as his lifeless form fell into the ground with a loud...

_Thud._

Her body jerked, pulling her back into reality, temporarily ending the nightmare that clawed at the back of her skull. She splashed water on her face, gasping loudly like her breath had been sucked out of her, and she cupped the liquid in her hand and poured it over her head, attempting to grapple with her existence. Her short hair became drenched, tousled messily as droplets from the ends of her strand trickle down her breasts. In a state of panic, she wiggled her toes to break away from her delirium, but she instead felt _life_ in the empty shell she had been carrying and she felt remorse wash over her. She sank into depression, guilt pressing on her shoulders, the weight of the world crushing her small frame. As she sank further into her debilitating mind, a calming voice interrupted,

“Riza.”

Riza twitched, cranking her neck toward the bathroom door, to the source of the sedative timbre, and with heavy-lidded eyes she saw bright light glowing under fluorescent light. She blinked once, twice, and on the third she witnessed a young woman emerge from the light.

“My darling, do you remember me?” the woman inquired.

Riza paused, taking her time to study the familiarity of her face as she would often do when receiving her ghostly amber-eyed visitors. The woman’s long, flaxen hair was neatly combed with its ends curling. She had side parted bangs just like her, and they curtained her left eye just slightly, but Riza could see depth in her reflections. Her irises were a beautiful red tint, her most noticeable feature, and the color was similar to those she had murdered. Her gaze, however, was not full of fear like the ones she had seen on her victims, but of love. The woman smiled, and it enveloped Riza in a wave of solace, an unanticipated sensation that she never knew she longed for. “…Mom?” she inquired in a whisper.

“That’s right, Riza,” the woman nodded.

Riza paused, staring into the glow. She rubbed her eyes until it burned the skin on her lids, but the woman stood there unmoving. Riza chuckled in disbelief, slapping a palm to her face as she attempted to bring a semblance of reality.

“It’s really… you?” Riza confirmed.

“It’s me,” she answered with a smile, “it’s been a while, my darling Elizabeth.”

“Mom… I miss you so much,” the corner of her lips pulled into a smile, “is it…. beautiful where you are?”

“It’s very beautiful, Riza,” she answered gently.

 “Are—Are you… happy there?”

“I am, Riza. Very much.”

“That’s good… Too bad I won’t be able to join you…” Riza smiled solemnly, “will it… hurt?”

Her mother spoke softly, “Only in the beginning.”

Riza sat in silence, tranquility in her expression as she pondered over her mother’s words. She lifted her pale, bony arm to the surface of the water, curling and uncurling her fingers as she slowly exposed the underside of her forearm, paying attention to the greenish blue veins underneath her skin. She clenched her hand as tightly as she could, trembling ever so slightly, and she could see her blood vessels pop out of her skin, enticing her to do what she set out to do. She picked up the thin, sharp item from the stool beside the tub and placed it languidly over her wrist where the thickest vein ran.

She shakily held the object in between her thumb and index finger, feeling of dread embracing her form as she nears herself to death. She pressed the pointy edge of the razor into the flesh on her wrist, pricking the skin until she felt a sting, and she gasped loudly as panic overtook her. She pressed it in deeper, and immediately she shrieked in horror, piercing scream filling the room as she felt the most excruciating pain emit from every corner of her being, like daggers shooting inside her. Her chest began to heave, the pace of her breathing grew louder and frantic as she gripped the blade firmly in her unsteady hand. She was scared, the _most_ scared she had ever been, but she gathered courage and dragged the blade downward little by little, a fraction at a time, until she saw bright, red fluid spurt in short bursts from her skin. Her breath turned ragged, adrenaline coursing through every inch of her skin, and her body seized uncontrollably as she felt her heart jump out of her skin. Fear caved in yet again, but in the fit of it all, she trailed the blade downward until more blood began gushing out of her arm. Riza felt a tingling sensation, like thousands of ants crawling up and down her skin until she was completely cocooned and unable to breathe. She tried to take deep breaths, rapidly inhaling with her mouth to make up for the feeling of suffocation, but her effort was fruitless. Her hand went numb, and she felt a dizzying sensation spreading outward, expelling her soul out of her body, and her mind went blank.

She lost her grip and released the blade reflexively, watching the item disappear in the sea of red, and she saw death halt in the corner of her eyes, wispy shadow hovering at her feet. She was determined, however, to rid the world of The Hawk’s Eye, and so she mustered the last of her strength to lure the grim reaper. She attempted to steady her arm, holding it in place against the side of the tub, and she scrambled to find the blade under water, blindly feeling for the small object. The wound she wreaked upon herself, however, was starting to paralyze her body, and her arms turned flaccid.

Riza floated there in what seemed like hours, and she took a glance at her buoyant arms, noticing the red thick liquid seep out from the inch laceration. More of her blood mixed with water, reflecting hues of red on the white ceiling like the conflagration of sunset, and she never felt more at peace.

“M-mom—” she questioned, “am—am I...dead?”

Her mother smiled fondly, “No, you are not.”

“N-no… not… yet...” Riza whimpered, hazel eyes glistening as tears coat her orbs. She focused her gaze on her mother’s transparent form. The beautiful woman stood still, emanating a saintly aura of golden halo, and she clasped her hands together in prayer. The image etched a weak smile onto Riza’s face, and Riza was overcome with sorrow.

Tears that had been held finally spilled, and she cried, grieving for her brief existence. She thought of a brunette with wavy hair, her father, and a young man with fire in his eyes; their brief images fleeing her memory. She lamented over her failure as a friend, a daughter and guardian to her father’s research, and finally, over her failure as _his protector_. Mucus dripped down from her nostrils and saliva leaked out of her mouth as she wept. The sound reflected on the walls, sending echoes of grief in the confine of the bathroom. Within seconds her entire body limped, the last of her energy escaping its container, and she let herself be pulled under until only her head was bobbing above the water. She was ready to say goodbye.

The air was quiet, drowning out each and every white noise until the last thing she heard was a muffled, deep sound in her ears, like a broken record player slowed down a hundred times over. As the sound faded out, her lids became heavy, threatening to close at any moment, and her vision blurred as she succumbed into unconsciousness.

Her universe was a whirlwind of black, and she floated through space freely and weightlessly, like clouds drifting in the sky. This world, however, lasted merely a moment as she saw a star appear in front of her. The star was bright, disrupting her vision as it slowly expanded until it reached the size of a meteor, and the scintillation prompted her to narrow her eyes. And then she heard a bang in the distance, like the explosion of two asteroids colliding, and the sound was pulling her out of her state bit by bit. She suddenly felt a fierce tug at her body, like the force of gravity yanking her down, and she spiraled into the light, slowly gaining her momentum as she listened to the pounding in her ears.

“Riza… RIZA!” Deep, baritone voice yelled, fear lacing its tone.

The man held her close to him, clutching onto her listless body like his life depended on it, and he rested her head on his chest, roughly caressing her matted hair with one hand. She could hear the thump of his heartbeat, palpitating and hammering loudly in her ears, and she could feel the reverberation of his voice as he sobbed and called out her name. Liquid continued to stream down his cheeks, dripping from his chin and into her mouth, and Riza could taste the salt. She could feel him tremble as he rocked both of their bodies wildly from side to side, like a pendulum swing, attempting to awaken her.

He repeated her name, and it sounded louder each time. She craned her neck forward, dragging her head closer to the sound, and she lifted her lids as she tried to put a face to the familiar voice. Her vision slowly adjusted to the brightness of the room, and her pupils fixated on the blur of onyx and fair complexion. She gazed at the form with eyes half lidded, and she was able to outline a man with dark eyes and a mop of black hair. She blinked once, twice, and she opened her eyes fully to recognize the figure as the wielder of Flame Alchemy, her fellow soldier, her father’s apprentice, and... as the one constant in her life.

He whimpered as he looked into her eyes, his tears falling rapidly onto her cheeks, “Ri-Riza, I will take you to the hospital—okay? And—and once you are better, I promise you that we—we will atone for our sins. We will revive Ishval a-and make this country a better place, just like how—how I told Hughes,“ he sobbed, “I-I promise, but I need you—I need _you_ by my side. P-Please, Riza…. It—it doesn’t have to be this way… Don’t—don’t take the easy way out…. Please…”

She glanced at him, examining his face as he spat out strings of promises. His was a defeated expression, the same one he wore when he was on the battlefield, and Riza _resented_ that face. She longed for the face she had seen ten years prior, when he used to study under her father, when fire blazed in his eyes as he told her of his ambitions with the innocence of youth. She wanted to see that smile, the one he so freely gave as they talked by the fireplace in the dead of night.

He pulled her into a tighter embrace, enveloping her body with the warmth of his, and she heard a snap. Heat engulfed her arm as the flame on his fingers seared her wound close, slowly yet steadily injecting life into her body. She began to feel a sensation on her fingertips, her hands, and then her arms, and it continued to revive the rest of her until she could discern where her skin started and where it ended. She didn’t say anything to him, still too weak to utter a sound, but she stared deep into his raven eyes, unblinking and full of purpose. He considered her gaze, nodding and smiling with understanding, and he ghosted a kiss on her forehead and Riza felt as though she had been reborn. She knew then that the rest of her life would be devoted to fulfilling this man’s goals and dreams.

 

* * *

 

**Several months later…**

He stood up from his chair, and with a serious tone in his voice he spoke, “I’m going to appoint you to be my assistant. I would like to have you watch my back.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but the rest of her expression was still.

“You understand, don’t you? That by leaving my back to you, you can shoot me from behind at anytime,” he continued, “If I ever step off the path, shoot me. You are entitled to do so.”

She gazed into his eyes, and she could see the fires of his vision burn bright with determination. His voice echoed in the room, “Will you follow me?”

Without missing a beat she replied firmly, “As you wish, sir. Into hell, if you so desire.” A soft smile appeared on her face.


End file.
